


Sway

by inusagi



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inusagi/pseuds/inusagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A jealous Ianto Jones watches Jack dance on a night out and musters the courage to join him. Fluff. Oneshot. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sway

Disclaimer: I don’t own the loveliness that is Torchwood. I think we all know that there would be about 90% more sex and 100% less character death if I did.

A/N: This was the winner from the poll I posted on Fanfiction.net…I pulled it a little early because I got this done! I’m playing with perspective in this one. Bear with me. Also, in fair warning, there is an alarming amount of fluff.

v^v^v^v

I deeply regret letting Gwen talk me into coming out tonight. I have not a single clue what would make her think that this was the kind of atmosphere that I’d enjoy. Maybe it was more to do with the quaint idea of double dating with her and Rhys, but she really should have known that it wouldn’t go the way she wanted.

I suppose I’m not being completely fair. There was a point…God, it seemed like lifetimes ago, but there was a point that I spent my weekends in places like this, nights with loud music, booze and dancing. Lisa loved dancing.

You do too, I can tell. Women were literally surrounding you. A pretty blonde was actually grinding her arse into your crotch. I can’t actually tell if you’re aware of it or not, but you’re clearly enjoying yourself. You look so handsome right now, with your face flushed and your eyes closed. I’ve never seen a man move as gracefully as you are now, regardless of the way that brunette is hanging off of your braces. Really, could her skirt be shorter?

I’d really just love to go over there and pry them away from you by the hair.

I may be a bit jealous.

I want to be angry with you for dancing with them, but I can’t. You asked me to dance when Gwen pulled Rhys out to the dance floor. I wanted to, really I did, and the disappointed look on your face when I waved you on nearly pulled me to my feet.

But instead I imagined the looks we’d get, with your brand of dancing. I imagined looking ridiculous next to you, ruining your gracefulness with my two left feet.

It was daft. I spend my bloody days chasing after aliens. I have a pet pterodactyl.  Why is the idea of dancing with a man in a crowded place so terrifying?

I try to pry my eyes away from you as the song changes, but I can’t. You’re surrounded by your little harem of dancing girls. I wonder if they were drawn in by your handsomness, your dancing or your pheromones. I know you can’t help it, but anytime your blood get’s pumping, you emanate them. It’s why the Weevils always want to go after you first and why I can never resist your…charms once the mood strikes you.

The deejay turns on the colored lights and the disco ball and you’re bathed in light. I think, rather pathetically, that it’s an apt kind of metaphor for your presence in my life. You bring all the color, all the life, all the grace. It’s like suddenly seeing In Technicolor when I’ve been blind all my life.

I feel like an idiot sitting here alone. I want to dance with you.

Why can’t I just do this?

 The song changes again, this time switching to a soft, sweet tune. I see those girls look at you hopefully and I’ve had enough. You’re begging off, judging by their crestfallen faces, but I’m already halfway across the dance floor. I bump against swaying couples on my way.

I wrap my arms around your middle before you even see me. You pull away, a rejection on your lips, but then you see me and your face breaks out into the most radiant smile I’ve ever seen. Your hands sneak around my back to rest on my shoulders. We start to sway.

“I thought you didn’t dance, Mr. Jones?” you say. Your voice is teasing and breathless.

“We can’t let you have all the fun, can we, sir?”

You laugh, a rich sound I wouldn’t be able to hear over the too-loud music if your lips weren’t against my ear. I pulled you closer. We’re meshed together now, chest to chest, hips to hips. I don’t think we’re so much dancing now as shuffling, but I don’t care.

I don’t care about any of it at this moment. Not work and Weevils. Not my own gracelessness. Not the potentially shocked faces of lookers-on.  The only care I have in the world is the urge to capture your soft lips in a kiss.

And that’s exactly what I do.

v^v^v^v

A/N: That was so fluffy. So fluffy. I’m gonna die. I hope it lived up to expectations. Please review and let me know, especially how well the perspective worked out for the story. Thanks!


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